Monthly Archives: January, 2003

Dentist appointment today. Just cleaning, nothing painful. Annoying, yes. But no pain. And my teeth are all clean and shiny now, so there ya go.

Yesterday only got more irksome after I blogged. Apparently, Ms. Anderson is very disorganized this quarter and was messing up everyone’s grades. I only found out about it in seventh period, though (during which we didn’t even have the quiz — grr.) Since Dr. J didn’t have any plans, either, I went up to check on my grade. Turned out to be fine, comfortably nestled in the A-zone. Yay-ness. I passionately dislike this time of year. The whole end-of-quarter mania is enough to scar everyone for life. There is a reason why assignments have due dates.

New issues with Mark. Same old issues with Greg. General stress over school, but the promise of three and half more days without it. Sudden boredom. Bleh.

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Well. Just got back from my field trip. The two-hour delay threw everything off. Not that I mind some extra sleep time, but I wanted to be out all day! We were supposed to be gone until almost the end of sixth period, but it’s only fourth now, so Mr. Lifsey let us all in the computer lab to sit around. I think I’m going to go to fifth period, which is Lifsey’s class. I can just work on my drawing and play on the Internet, unless we have a strict sub. But I’m way ahead of everyone else, so there ya go. And I could use a break before my Trig test seventh period. It’s not like I’ve been doing a lot of thinking today, though. We left right after school started, it took twenty minutes to get to there, we sat around for fifteen minutes, judged for half an hour, ate for twenty minutes, took another fifteen to get back, and that’s it. We went to judge science fair at Stephen Decatur Middle School, which, oddly enough, is right up the street from my house. It’s like I came here to school, went home, came back here, and I’m going to go back in a few hours. I almost could have stayed home!

There’s the bell. On second thought, I think I’ll “skip” Lifsey’s class, too. Then off to sixth period lunch to talk to Greg and Mark and the ragtag bunch of nerds that they sit with. They had decent food at the school, so I don’t need to actually eat. It was from Subway, and they let us make our own, so I had my sandwich just the way I like it — plain. No vegetables, no condiments, soft bread. Mmm. And they had chocolate chip cookies. I took two. More mmm. (Hey, I have second lunch — I’m used to eating much earlier than that.) Otherwise, it’s been a pretty decent day so far.

I am hating school right now. And — how should I put this?– it is not the right time for people to be messing with me. I once asked someone why they take such pleasure in annoying me, and they said it’s the way I react. I’m thinking, What? It’s funny that I react when people make fun of me? Sometimes it gets on my nerves. I do not exist for other people to point out my faults and whatnot. Go find someone else to bother!

Enough ranting for now. I’m off to play Text Twist and generally waste some time. Ciao for now.

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Blog-hopping has not taken as long as usual this week, as Stephanie was so quick to point out. I just feel this need to update my lovely readers on the not-so-interesting saga that is my life. And those were two blog-free days when I felt like ranting! (Case in point: last Friday’s piano rant.) There are few things worse than not being able to rant when you want to.

Nothing the least bit interesting happened this weekend. I spent a large chunk of yesterday working on AP Physics homework. Unlike a lot of the people in that class, I actually attempt to work out and understand the problems. (Whether or not I wind up understanding is an entirely different problem.) Consequently, I am fully into recycling scrap paper now. All those numbers get hairy after a while, but I ran down another eraser, so I’ve started to work them out separately and copy them when I finally get it right. Takes forever, but I feel good having figured them out.

Ryan’s birthday was today. He had a party at Chuck E. Cheese’s, which I passed on because (a) I didn’t wake up early enough and (b) he told me he didn’t mind. He’s surprisingly perceptive sometimes, considering he’s only 7 today. I think he could turn out to be really smart. I think I’m closer to him than Courtney, but that’s probably because I was older when he was born. They would never let me hold Courtney, and she took away my only-child-ness. It was like, “What good is she? I can’t hold her, I can’t touch her, and all she does is eat and sleep and cry. If I want something to look at, I’ll get a stuffed animal.” Not the nicest thoughts, but I was six. What do you expect?

Not too cold this weekend, but it still snowed just a little while ago. Not much, but enough to cover the grass and stuff. It looks so beautiful, but it’s so frigid in the mornings! Why does it only have to snow when it’s too cold to just go out and enjoy the splendor of it?

Oops, getting late, school tomorrow. Ciao for now.

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I have been playing the piano for the past six years, since mid-December 1996. For years before I started, people looked at my long fingers and told me that I should play piano. So I tried it. And I loved it. And I continued to take lessons and to play. I make an honest effort to keep my nails short (but not too short), so I can curve my fingers more. I practice whenever I can find a spare half-hour, which isn’t as often as it used to be. I have never had an actual piano to practice on, but I “adapt.” (I have a keyboard, i.e. no dynamics.) At the last recital, it seems that I played so well, my teacher cried.

Several times before, I have become so fed up with the piano, or my teacher, that I have considered just giving it up. Tonight is one of those times. I got home from my lesson not long ago. (She teaches me at her house up the street, so I usually stay later than I would if I still went to the Youth Center on Andrews.) About once a month, she has little mini-recitals to give us all experience in playing for an audience. (I am not quite sure if it’s helped me conquer my nervous shaking or not.) The next one is next Friday evening. So, when she told me that, I had to figure out what to play.

I’ve been working on another Christmas song (so what if the holidays are over?), a version of “Angels We Have Heard on High” called “In Excelsis Deo.” It’s in A major, but it’s still very pretty. At least, it’s pretty the way I’ve been practicing it for the past six weeks or so. “Angels” is one of my favorite Christmas carols, so I was very pleased with the way it turned out. But when I played it tonight (for some extra time practicing on a piano), my teacher’s husband said that it sounded too slow. So I checked the tempo marking, and it said (to my dismay) 140. (For the non-music literate, that means 140 beats per minute, just over twice as fast as the second hand on a clock.) I was playing it much slower than that. So they asked me to play it faster, and I did. Much faster. Not 140, but fairly close. It sucks now. “Angels” is supposed to sound flowing and beautiful, not fast and rushed, like it was when I picked up the tempo. It has totally ruined the angelic effect of the piece. And of course, they liked it fast. I swear I wanted to hurt someone. The problem with playing music that someone else composed (or in this case, arranged) is that you can’t necessarily play it the way you want to. You’re supposed to play it the way it’s written. But what happens when the composition of a piece makes you want to rip your hair out? What do you do then?

I love music. I love the piano. I love playing the piano — most of the time. Right now is one of those times when it just gets on my nerves.

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Auuuuuuuuuuuuuggggggggghhhhhhhh!!! I had to go two whole days without getting online! I was practically in Internet withdrawal. And, to make matters worse, the only reason I couldn’t get on was because I was doing very agitating homework. I swear, four hours on AP Physics is enough to make you want to kill someone. However, I managed to not commit that crime. I aced Dr. J’s test (with a teeny little hint — so I can’t always get metric unit conversions right — I’m not perfect), I wrote my English essay last night (instead of, like, now), and I probably did the same on my Trig Analysis test as I always do (which is to say, really well). And the withdrawal symptoms are basically gone now.

Nothing monumental in school today. Vocabulary test in English was easy; no new words this week. Finally persuaded Mark to go with simple-yet-effective wedge design for the robot. (And I made up a nifty new acronym last week: SIM for Stop It, Mark.) Mr. Lifsey has assigned us to CAD an entire house this time. Since I am his unofficial student aide, he let me pick which floor plan the class would do. Naturally, I picked the simplest one, so that I’ll spend less time showing everyone else how to do it. Dr. J had zero planned for class today, which made me think back to this morning. My intuition said, “Just in case you’re stuck in class with nothing to do, grab a magazine.” But did I listen? No. So I was bored. But I talked to Megan and Stpehanie on the bus home, so it worked out okay.

I suppose that, yearning-for-info people that you are, you want to know about the current “situation” between me and Greg. It’s like this: there is no situation. If there ever is, you will know. Otherwise, I don’t want to talk about it. It confuses me more than anything, and I think that I’m the only one who can un-confuse it. Bed now. Goodnight.

You like to be close to your special someone and feel warm, comfortable, and needed.

And a really great example of a good ending:
“Wilbur never forgot Charlotte. Although he loved her children and grandchildren dearly, none of the new spiders ever quite took her place in his heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both.” — E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

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We taped for It’s Academic this morning (… afternoon), against Benjamin Banneker (D.C.) and Potomac Falls (VA). We lost. That kinda sucks.

To elaborate: I had to get up at, like, 7 this morning. Not fun, especially since I didn’t get to bed until 11:30-ish last night. (I know my sort-of lack of sleep didn’t affect anything though; I’ve gone to school after that, and I get up earlier.) But we left on time, and got to the studio at about 10. (And we only missed one turn.) Greg and Andrew were already there. Mark showed up a few minutes after I did, but Mr. T didn’t get there until much later. We watched Eleanor Roosevelt, Northwestern, and another school (whose name I can’t remember) tape their game until he got there. Roosevelt won by quite a lot.

Then it was our turn. I managed not to shake like I usually do. Somehow I was less nervous about taping for TV than I was at the Invitational back in November. Or maybe it was Mark. (I’d just told him that I liked him. He always did make me nervous and uncomfortable. I should have been able to tell sooner.) Anyway, we played. I answered about as often as I usually do. The main thing that hindered us was that Banneker was so fast! It was like: I push the button, all ready to answer, and Mac (the host) says, “Banneker!” I’m thinking, “No… Oxon Hill…” They were tough competitors. Their captain (a girl – yay) was really into it. The only bad thing is, they were sophomores and juniors, so it’s possible we could play them again next year. Yeesh.

Much of my family was there: my parents, Ryan, my grandma, Papa, and Bridgette. My mom had a sign, and she was all excited that the camera guy got her in one of the audience shots. I think she enjoyed it more than I did. They were all proud of me, even though we lost. We went for lunch at Bennigan’s. The food was very rich, very yummy, and very comforting. And I found out that although I was the most difficult birth for my mom (being first and all), I was the easiest baby to deal with. (My hair surprised everyone — I was practically bald when I was born, and look at me now.)

All in all, it’s been a pretty good day. But, ergh. Homework. Bleh. Blech, even. School is really deplorable (SAT word!) sometimes.

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